Same Time, Same Closet
by joedan84
Summary: (Rating: It says the 'D' word. *gasp*) Chloe hides in Pete's closet when she's upset. Chlete.


Started and Finished: September 16, 2002

Last Ep Seen Before Writing: Tempest

Disclaimer: I do not own them, though if I did it would happen something like this!

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Same Time, Same Closet

Author's Note: This is dedicated to my CCU sisters: Lauren, Maryclare, and Alicia. May you have many, many closet encounters! ;) I love you girls!!

"Pete, it's Gabe. Have you seen Chloe?"

"No, sir. Is everything all right?" Pete asked, worriedly.

"I'm not sure, to tell you the truth. We got into an argument and she ran out. I was sure you'd know. Maybe I better call Clark."

Pete sat on the arm of the plush maroon couch. "Actually, I might know where she is," he said, a look of understanding crossing his features.

"Really? That's great. Could you send her home?"

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you, Pete."

"Bye," Pete said, hanging up the phone. Pete made his way to his bedroom, his shoes padding softly on the worn carpet. He shut the door firmly behind himself before crossing to the closet.

"Hey, Beautiful," Pete said, opening the closet door to reveal Chloe.

"Hi," Chloe replied sadly, not bothering to look up. She was sitting against the wall, her knees drawn up to her chest. "How did you find me?"

Pete smiled softly, flipping on the overhead light. "Your dad called. Besides, you always end up in my closet when you're upset."

Chloe sighed and looked up at Pete. "Mike let me in," she said, resting her arms on her knees.

Pete chuckled and crawled down beside Chloe. "Mike has always played the protective big brother."

"That's because he has like twenty brothers and sisters," Chloe replied, laying her head on her arms.

Pete smiled at Chloe's slight exaggeration. When she sighed he ran his fingers through her blond hair in a soothing motion. "What happened?"

"I don't want to say," Chloe said.

Pete could tell she was pouting by the tone of her voice. He moved his fingers down to massage her neck. "You can tell me. You're obviously upset if you're hiding in my closet."

"It's stupid. You'll laugh," Chloe murmured, stretching her neck under Pete's pressure.

"No, I won't. It's not stupid if it's making you this aggravated," Pete said, his fingers working over Chloe's tensed muscles.

"I want a dog, and he won't let me get one," Chloe said in a rush. When Pete erupted into laughter Chloe's head shot up. "You promised you wouldn't laugh." Chloe slapped Pete's arm. She slapped him three more times before he finally stopped laughing.

"I'm sorry, you just seem so serious," Pete said, biting his lip to hold back laughter.

"It's not funny. I *want* a *dog*," Chloe told Pete, looking over at him.

"What were you going to do; hide in my closet until your dad gave in?" Pete asked, giving Chloe a sympathetic look.

"No," Chloe said indignantly. "I was going to hide in your closet until you found me and made it all better like you always do, but I must be in the wrong closet.

Chloe started to stand, but Pete pulled her back down. "No, no. You're in the right closet," he said, settling his arm around her shoulders.

"I *want* a *dog*," Chloe insisted, leaning against Pete and putting her head on his shoulder.

"Chloe, your mom is allergic to dogs; even I know that," Pete said with a smile.

"Damn her," Chloe muttered, shaking her head slightly.

Pete laughed quietly. "You don't mean that."

"No, I don't," Chloe admitted grudgingly.

On instinct Pete brushed his lips across Chloe's forehead. Chloe's eyes slowly came up to meet Pete's. She seemed to be searching his eyes for a moment before pressing her lips to his.

They were interrupted by a pounding on the door. "Petey! Mr. Sullivan called. He wants Chloe to go home."

"Thanks, Mike," Pete called, mentally cursing his brother for using the nickname he hated so much.

Pete stood, pulled Chloe to her feet, and walked her to the front door. "See you tomorrow?"

"Same time, same closet," Chloe replied, kissing Pete quickly then walking down the porch steps.

"Aww, our little Petey got the girl," a voice crooned behind Pete.

Pete grabbed a football off the hall table and threw it at Mike. "Don't call me Petey."

Pete hid his smile until he was safely back in his room. He threw himself on his back across the bed.

"I got the girl," he whispered, breaking into a grin. "I got the girl."


End file.
